


Humanity's Strongest

by ladymacbethsspot



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Bonding over cleaning, Enemies to Friends, Focus on Levi and Mike, Gen, Pre Canon, canonverse, post ACWNR
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 20:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21955003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladymacbethsspot/pseuds/ladymacbethsspot
Summary: When Levi first joins the Scouts he doesn't care for Mike. He thinks he knows exactly what kind of man Mike is: big, strong, and mean.But first impressions aren't always correct...
Comments: 22
Kudos: 103





	Humanity's Strongest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tonya_the_chicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonya_the_chicken/gifts).



> Happy SNK Veteran's Secret Santa, Tonya_the_Chicken!!!
> 
> I hope you (and everyone who reads) enjoy this canonverse Mike + Levi fic!

Mike Zacharias was a stooge. A clod. A big man with a big nose and a big yell and not much else. He did what Erwin told him, always, sniffing in that awful way of his, like he couldn’t even breathe without permission. He’d shoved Levi’s face in the filth one too many times, and Levi had met far too many men like him before.

They all thought they were so strong.

They all thought they were so big.

They all thought they could throw their weight around without consequence and rely on their friends in high places to get them out of anything.

That’s what Levi thought.

He thought it when they first met. With mud seeping down the front of his shirt, with foul-tasting grit between his teeth, with the smells of waste and rot making his stomach flip and the bile rise- He couldn’t think anything else. He hated that hand, the one that held him down. He hated the strength pinning him to the ground. He hated the man forcing him to kneel to the falsest of prophets.

The hate was sharp, urgent, and bright. But its light dimmed when his friends died for it. And when he’d decided to follow Erwin Smith into the Scouts, the flame of hate guttered and went dark.

* * *

Life with the Scouts was unfamiliar, but some things hadn’t changed. Levi still couldn’t sleep. He still carried a blade. He still ignored everyone and they ignored him. He kept his head down, spoke little, and did only what he was ordered to do. He trained, he worked, and he sat through the beginners’ lectures with a bored half-attention.

It wasn’t long before it became routine. It was either that, the simple passage of time, or the fact that Levi had faced nearly everyone on the training field hand to hand. He’d always been good at fighting, good at hurting. Levi found it much more effective than talking. It worked wonders above-ground just as it did in the Underground. The glares of his fellow soldiers were less frequent. The whispers and rumors lost their more fantastic elements. He didn’t confuse them anymore now that he was one of them. They’d seen his tricks, and they weren’t tricks at all. There was no magic, no mystery, only force.

But he still scared them, that much he would never be able to beat out of them. It didn’t work like that, and Levi was at a loss. The way the other soldiers fell quiet, or turned away, like birds moving as a flock to avoid a hawk, had grown to be part of Levi’s routine. He accepted it. It suited him. He didn’t have to hold anyone at arm’s length; they held themselves there.

Except for three people: Erwin, Mike, and Hanji. Hanji had been the first to pester him. They’d come over and sat themselves right down, inviting themselves to eat with him even when Levi had thought it was clear they weren’t welcome. They’d had some decency though, saying they were sorry for the friends he’d lost, and Levi hadn’t bothered to chase them away. His lack of hostility apparently interpreted as an invitation, Hanji had made a habit after that of introducing terrified-looking people to Levi, of dragging him into awkward conversations, and of catching him sneaking out of the mess hall with his bread and insisting he sit with them.

Hanji was loud. And a chatterbox. Curious, enthusiastic, and scatterbrained, it was almost more agonizing to listen to their latest experimental results than it was to go hungry. One night, already late on his way to dinner, Levi wondered if he should even go at all. The food probably wouldn’t be hot anymore anyway. He could skip a meal. It wouldn’t be pleasant, and he’d be starving in the morning, but he wasn’t sure how much speculation on the Titans’ digestive tract he could take that night. Levi paused, a few feet away from the mess hall entrance, wavering on the edge of the circle of lamp-lit glow and hum of voices emanating from within. He could go back to the barracks. He could head over to the stables. He could take a walk outside, in the night, in blissful silence, or-

“You coming?”

A deep voice from behind made Levi turn. He looked up, and up, briefly meeting a pair of light, cool eyes looking down a long nose at him.

Mike’s shaggy hair needed to be brushed. His uniform shirt was sweaty and coming un-tucked. As the big man sniffed, Levi frowned. His jaw set, lips pressing shut in a thin line. Before he could speak, Mike continued.

“Hey,” Mike said, “Let’s eat.”

The much larger man nodded towards the hall and took a step forward. As he passed Levi he leaned over, a quiet explanation sliding down his nose and catching Levi’s ear. “I have questions for Hanji. It’ll keep them occupied.” Mike didn’t have to wink. He didn’t have to nudge, or even break his stride as he headed into the mess for dinner. Levi felt the weight of his indecision lifted, the tension of his scowl smoothing to neutral relief. Wordlessly, he followed Mike. Not too close, but not too far, letting a few steps separate them and their cadence lag just beyond a match, he walked with Mike to dinner.

Potatoes. Peas. Bread. The water in his tin cup tasted flat, all flavor boiled from it, but Levi’s stomach growled loudly anyway as he put a spoonful of mashed potatoes in his mouth. If not hot it was at least decently warm, and Levi hadn’t realized how hungry he was. He trained a lot now, even more than he had as a criminal, and every bite of food was welcome. Levi dug in, alternating bites of bread and peas, efficiently cleaning his plate faster than he had in weeks. Mike had been true to his word. Hanji was occupied, and he was free to eat without interruption.

“Wait, what _do_ they smell like, though?” Hanji repeated, prodding Mike in the ribs. Levi thanked the gods silently that he wasn’t the one being interrogated for once.

“Bad. Stop poking me,” Mike grumbled.

“Bad? Bad?! That doesn’t mean anything. Do Titans smell ‘bad’ like dirty socks? ‘Bad’ like moldy bread? What kind of ‘bad’?” As Hanji ticked off the unappealing possibilities, Levi found his appetite waning. “Do they smell like dog shit? Or maybe like…” Levi chased the peas around his plate.

“Like…” Mike trailed off, his unshakable calm enviable as he stared into the middle distance while Hanji practically vibrated in the seat next to them. “Well, a little like vomit,” he admitted.

Levi’s stomach twinged. A wave of nausea lapped at the back of his throat. He looked up from his food, shooting them both a glare across the table, immediately doubting his temporary peace with Mike. The man had been messing with him. He hadn’t meant to be friendly at all. He’d merely lulled Levi into a false sense of security. Then he’d lured him into this trap. “That’s disgusting. Could you not?” Levi accused.

“It’s not disgusting,” Hanji insisted, “it’s valuable information! Tell me more. I need to know more about the scent if I’m going to learn anything from it.” They leaned over, crowding Mike’s space as he shifted away on the bench.

“Bad meat. They smell like that.”

“Disgusting,” Levi muttered, trying to will himself to take another bite of peas, fighting the rising feelings of revulsion and betrayal.

“Spoiled? Rancid? Is it more of a sour smell or a musky one? I’m trying to capture the specifics of it. I know you’re the expert, Mike, so tell me, what does your nose know? Are we talking about a gamy scent, like some kind of animal that died and sat out in the sun until-”

This was too much. He would not be treated like this. Holding back a burp that threatened to be more, Levi slammed his spoon down on his plate. Metal banged together with a ringing clack, jumping against the wooden table, peas and bits of potato sent flying. “Shut up!” he roared, the outburst punctuated by a _splat_ as a lump of flying potato landed squarely on Hanji’s goggles.

The silence that followed was nearly complete. Levi glared at Hanji. Hanji stared, open mouthed, right back. The rest of the hall’s dull chatter around them had run dry. And Mike- Mike-

Mike fucking snorted. He snorted, and gasped, and barked a laugh as his shoulders shook. Levi’s glare turned from Hanji to him. The quick burst was followed by hearty chuckling, the occasional nasal snort making Hanji join in as they whooped along. Wiping the potato from their goggles sent Hanji into a fresh fit of glee, and they slapped Mike on the back. Their laughter grew as Levi watched on, lips clamped shut, as the two continued in fits and spurts of un-contained mirth. They had fucking set him up. It was not funny. It was disgusting. His appetite and dinner both ruined, Levi stood from the bench and crossed his arms as he looked down at them.

“You think this is funny?” Levi hissed. Mike looked back at him through dirty-blonde bangs that shook between chuckles.

“Levi-” he started, but Levi cut him off.

“This is a fucking waste. People were eating,” he deadpanned, and picked up his dented plate, turning on his heel and marching toward the kitchen with the remains of his meal. He thought he heard Hanji’s voice, but he didn’t stop walking. Levi didn’t stop, and he didn’t look back. He went straight into the kitchen, where they returned their plates and spoons and cups, and frowned at the spoon embedded in what remained of his potatoes.

The meal was ruined. But Levi couldn’t bear to scrape it into the bin with the garbage either. He’d been hungry before. Food was food. Reluctantly, Levi picked the spoon’s handle out of the mess and scraped what remained of his dinner off his plate, forcing himself to swallow it without thinking of any of the things Hanji or Mike had mentioned. He managed, barely, and didn’t care about the clatter as he threw his dishes in with the rest.

* * *

Levi didn’t go to breakfast the next morning. Instead he waited, leaning against the cold stone in the hallway, until the sounds of forks and cups on plates and wooden tables grew quiet. He let the soldiers pass by him on their way out. They gave him a wide berth, moving around him once they saw him, their conversations dying on their lips as they shot him furtive glances. When Mike and Nanaba walked out, Levi was done waiting.

Stepping into the middle of the hall, he greeted them roughly.

“Oi, Zacharias.”

“Levi,” Mike nodded casually, his steps even as they approached. If he expected Levi to step aside, or move back, if he thought Levi would fall in step with them- he was wrong. Levi’s jaw set into a hard line. His eyes narrowed. As the distance between them closed, he crossed his arms. Until Mike and Nanaba were forced to stop. Levi frowned up at them. Nanaba’s raised brows lowered after a look between the two men.

“Huh,” Mike grunted, “What’s this about?”

“Spar with me,” Levi demanded.

“What?” Nanaba asked, momentarily confused.

“Today,” Levi clarified, his eyes trained on Mike’s face. Nanaba caught the meaning in his gaze, and opened her mouth, protests flowing out.

“Mike’s squad is doing horseback drills today. He doesn’t have time for that. Besides, you’re supposed to be doing something useful, too. You’re a soldier. Where’s your sense of duty?”

“This doesn’t concern you,” Levi interjected. The look of indignation on Nanaba’s face lasted only a second before it turned dark.

“Yes, it does. It concerns _everyone_. We are a team,” she added, “I thought you understood that. Especially after Erwin-”

Mike’s hand on her shoulder stopped her from saying more. “It’s fine. I’ll spar with you, Levi. At lunchtime.” The pause that followed let them all digest the acceptance of the invitation. Nanaba’s shoulders dropped slightly, relaxing under Mike’s touch. She gave a quiet sigh.

“Good,” Levi nodded curtly. “Meet at the field on the far side of the pond. Hand to hand. No gear. No weapons.”

“No tricks?” Mike asked.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Honestly,” Nanaba rolled her eyes, her anger already faded to irritation “you two are acting like _boys_. I’ll have no part of it.” With that she shook her head, setting off down the hall and leaving the two men to finish their glaring contest alone.

* * *

No one stopped Levi when he left drills early. If they even noticed, they said nothing as he stalked back into the ready room where they kept their 3d maneuver equipment. No one interrupted him as he undid the buckles, shucking leather belts off with practiced efficiency. After one final check of the gears and pins, he stored his equipment away, leaving just before his comrades returned from the training yard. He crossed the grounds of headquarters quickly, making his way by the pastures and training fields, beyond the barn, through the path between the kitchen gardens, and to the pond near the edge of the complex. It was a long way to go, but Levi didn’t run. He didn’t jog or rush in any way. He walked calmly, assuredly, with only the faintest glimmer of excitement picking his steps a little higher than usual.

He could see Mike, already waiting for him in the small field. The man was so tall, he was impossible to miss. He cut a large figure, even from a distance, but the thought of facing him didn’t intimidate Levi. It excited him. That was unusual. He’d fought plenty of men before, women too. But fighting was usually something he did to survive. It wasn’t special. It wasn’t noble. He wasn’t trying to prove anything with his fists and his knife.

But this time he was. This time it was personal. He could almost smell the stench of mud, taste the foul mix of water and waste.

He owed Mike- for that if nothing else.

“You said no weapons, right?” Mike cracked his knuckles as Levi stopped in front of him. “Bet you’ve got at least one knife on you. Here’s mine,” he finished, reaching into the back of his belt and pulling out a pocketknife. He dropped it on the ground between them, looking to Levi.

“Huh. Sure,” Levi shrugged. He undid the visible leather sheath from the side of his belt. Rolling up his sleeve, he slid a second knife from a band around his upper arm, and before Mike could raise an eyebrow produced a third that had been concealed at his back. Tossing the assortment of blades onto the ground, he rolled his shoulders.

“That it? How about that little hooked bugger…”

Levi frowned, shooting Mike a look of spite when he saw the blond’s stoic expression turn smug. “Not like I’d need it anyway,” he muttered, but still he bent down, reaching into his boot and plucking the long, thin, wickedly hooked piece of sharpened steel from its hiding place. That too dropped into the grass as the men walked a few yards away and squared off. They faced each other, letting the space between them take shape. Levi shifted on the balls of his feet, never settling as he let out a long breath-

-and Mike _ran_ -

couching down, he barreled toward Levi’s chest. The instant of surprise evaporated, Levi’s instincts taking over instead. He stepped wide to the left, turning slightly, raising his arm and letting Mike pass just by his side. Mike’s arms closed on nothing, the explosive start taking him a few steps to slow. He pivoted, foot driving hard into the ground to turn as he came at Levi with a fist.

But this time Levi wasn’t surprised.

He dodged the punch, ducking to throw one of his own. Aiming for Mike’s ribs, under his raised arm, his fist found flesh. Hard- _solid_ \- it was like hitting a wall. Levi’s teeth gritted. Mike hadn’t flinched. His eyes had closed for a second longer, but there was no crumple, no stutter. He kept moving, like the punch hadn’t landed at all. Pulling his other arm back, Levi tried again. Taking more time to aim, gauging where Mike’s ribs ended, he leaned back. Throwing the weight of his back and the momentum of the short turn into his blow, Levi lunged.

Mike’s shoulder hunched down defensively. His arms came up, forearms pressing together, creating a wall. A wall that Levi’s fist slammed into. This time he felt Mike’s muscles jump, watched him wince in pain, his arms forced back as they took the full brunt of the punch.

It was almost all Levi had. It was still barely enough.

There was no time to recover. They had both done this too many times before. Mike rocked forward, his foot swiping out at Levi’s legs at the same time. Trying to confuse his footing, tangle his steps and trip him, Mike fought dirtier than expected. But dirty was exactly how Levi had learned to fight. His weight light, barely resting on the balls of his feet, Levi deftly avoided the trap. The second lunge he would have avoided too if Mike hadn’t been so huge. But he only had time for one more step- and his shorter legs didn’t bring him far enough.

Mike’s hip banged into his side, the unstoppable force of the man’s weight making his teeth clack. The pain was dull. Pounding. It reverberated up and down his side, from hip to shoulder, sending him staggering back. Mike wasn’t about to just take a punch- he could give as well as he got. That, and Levi knew he’d have to put all his strength into each strike or Mike wouldn’t budge. There was no point in hitting if he didn’t hit hard. Luckily Mike’s weight and size could help there. Levi could use those to his advantage, could turn them against his opponent. He just needed to find the right angles.

Levi was starting to enjoy this.

When the two men turned back to one another their fight had changed. Both of them were serious. Mike struck out with his left, and Levi dodged it, anticipating the punch that followed from the right and turning with it to grab ahold of Mike’s wrist. He followed the larger man’s momentum, adding his own and directing it towards the ground. Pulling Mike over his shoulder, he dragged the man forward. A smaller opponent would have gone face-first into the ground. Damn Mike’s height- his knee hit the earth, but he was back up in a second, coming at Levi with a powerful swing. Levi could only half-avoid it. Glancing off the outside of his thigh, his brows knit as he pushed the flare of pain from his thoughts.

Instead Levi focused on hitting back. And he did, coming up to Mike as close as quarters would allow. Taking advantage of his small size, getting right up into his face before Mike could react, Levi knocked a flurry of punches into his chest. They hit in rapid succession, the sound of his fist slamming against Mike’s body satisfying- almost addicting. Levi jumped back, and Mike followed him. Right on his heels, giving him little time to react, they traded steps and blows in the dirt. Neither giving much quarter; their fight was a contained one, fast-paced and fierce.

Levi’s blood sang in his veins. The thrill of sparring like this was rare. A worthy opponent was hard to find, and as they traded blows Levi began to appreciate Mike’s abilities. He took a bone-shaking hit to his hip, but let himself be pushed back with it, the force spreading and diffusing. The unexpected lack of resistance made Mike pause. As he did, Levi bounced back, landing a sharp kick in the middle of his shin. Mike swore- pain and surprise obvious as his leg buckled and he stumbled. Rearing back, he wound up for a hasty punch. His aim too wide, wavering wider as he tried to follow through on his injured leg, Levi used the opening. He grabbed Mike, getting enough grip to finally throw him down.

The victory was short-lived. Mike rolled as he fell and was back up before Levi could hit him again. But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was Levi’s heart beating in his ears, the air he pulled deep into his lungs, the striking clarity with which he felt every muscle in his body. Strike. Breathe. Dodge. Levi’s focus narrowed to a point.

The two men circled. Levi shook out his shoulder. He rolled his sleeves up and Mike did too. They were both breathing heavy.

“You’re not bad at this,” Levi offered.

“Humanity’s Strongest,” Mike just nodded, the confidence clear in his voice.

“Humanity’s what?” Levi repeated.

“Humanity’s Strongest. That’s what they call me.”

“Whatever,” Levi scoffed. “Hope you enjoyed it. Since now they’ll only be calling you Humanity’s Second Strongest.”

“Ha-” Mike barked a laugh, “We’ll see.”

The two men rushed at each other, feet pounding the ground between them to nothing. Their furious limbs met, trading and blocking each other’s moves. Sweat dripped on their brows. Their muscles bunched and flexed, pitting force against force as they clashed. Both men were strong. Both men were fast. Both men had experience.

But Levi had more.

When Mike swayed forward, following through too much on a punch, Levi’s arm wrapped around his thick neck in a choke-hold. Levi grabbed his other wrist, trapping Mike’s neck between his elbow and shoulder. He squeezed tight. Mike’s arms flailed. Levi knew he had only a few seconds, and sure enough Mike’s arms found his waist, wrapping around it. Mike’s grip was awkward, but strong. They both squeezed, trying to crush the other, Levi bearing down hard, knowing he could only keep the force on Mike’s neck as long as he could breathe himself. His ribs were being compressed, Mike’s big arms pushed the air from his lungs, even as his forearm cut deeper into Mike’s windpipe. They struggled for seconds that felt like minutes, straining against each other.

As Levi felt Mike’s grip beginning to fade he looked down into the man’s face.

“I can’t- fucking- believe- you set me up,” he hissed.

“Wh-wha?” Mike choked out. His strength was failing. The pressure on his ribs easing, Levi gulped down a deep breath.

“With that shit at dinner,” he explained, “Who the fuck cares what a Titan smells like? You think that’s funny? Wasting food like that?”

“No- didn’t- set you- up-” Mike gasped, his mouth opening and closing against Levi’s arm as the words rasped out. Levi’s grip failed, loosening for just long enough for Mike to slip free. He lurched away, putting much more space between them, his breaths wheezing as Levi also fell back.

Mike’s denial was frustrating. And confusing. Just like everything. Who did he think he was- messing with Levi like that and expecting it wouldn’t come back to him? Levi frowned, his hands balling into fists, nails digging into his palms. He wasn’t going to let this continue. He was going to settle this the way he knew best- with his own two hands. Levi looked up, staring down the shaggy-haired giant across the field from him. With a deep breath he squared his shoulders, crouching down low, bending his knees and rocking back before he exploded forward into a run. Just as he started to move, so did Mike. Rushing at him headlong, his posture just as serious as Levi’s.

They raised their arms, distance closing quickly.

They cried out, twin yells loud in challenge.

They threw every ounce of their focus, their aim, and their strength at each other until-

“STOP!” a man’s deep voice shouted. Levi’s head snapped to the side fast enough to see a flash of blond hair and the flutter of a brown uniform jacket.

But not fast enough to stop.

 _Shit,_ Levi thought as his fist slammed into Erwin’s chest, a second impact from behind Erwin jarring them both and sending him crashing into the man as a shrill scream cut the air. They fell, in a tangle of misplaced limbs, the ground knocking the fight from them. _Shit_ , Levi repeated silently. Erwin was the last person he wanted to see him like this, childishly fighting another soldier, even if it _was_ Mike. Levi gasped. His ass hurt. He couldn’t get up. He was pinned by two much bigger men and struggling only made it worse. He looked around wildly, trying to make sense of what was happening, as Nanaba and Hanji rushed over. Scolding and fussing, they tugged Levi’s arms roughly out from under Erwin’s side, helping the squad leader to his feet.

Erwin stood shakily, wobbling until Nanaba wrapped an arm around his side and held him steady. “Erwin, are you okay?” she asked, the concern obvious in her voice.

On the ground, inches away, Mike groaned. Levi rolled over and sat up, brushing dirt from his shirt and tugging his cravat untied.

“You two,” Erwin stared down at them, swaying far enough that Levi thought he might fall again if it wasn’t for Hanji’s hand planted squarely on his chest. “I’m disappointed in you. You know fighting isn’t allowed.”

“But-” Levi opened his mouth, still too shocked to think clearly.

“But nothing. It is not allowed.” Erwin’s thick brows drew into a firm line. “You know better than that. And you will be punished. Both of you.” He shot a meaningful glance at Mike, who hung his head bashfully. “Cleaning. The mess hall. The men’s showers. My office-”

“Erwin,” Hanji interrupted, pointing out, “only Commander Shadis can order cleaning of the common rooms as punishment. If you want them to clean the showers and the mess, you’d have to tell him what happened, and…”

“Fine. Then. My office,” Erwin sighed, running a hand down his face. For a moment he looked tired, and Levi winced internally- he hadn’t meant to let Erwin down like this. “My office then,” Erwin reiterated, “Six o’clock tomorrow morning. Sharp.”

Nodding dumbly, still a little numb from the whole thing, Levi clambered awkwardly to his feet and distractedly brushed dust off his aching ass while Hanji and Nanaba helped the injured Erwin half-march, half-limp off.

* * *

At six o’clock the next morning Levi knocked on Squad Leader Erwin’s office door.

“Enter,” came the response from within, and Levi stepped inside. Mike was already there, standing by the desk. Levi glowered at him, but the sound of Erwin clearing his throat quickly pulled his attention away. “At least I can count on you two to be on time. If I were Commander Shadis I’d hope you’d _both_ be early.” Levi caught the smirk at the corners of Mike’s mouth and pursed his lips, holding back a reply and opting instead to stare down at the toes of his boots. “Do you know why you’re here?” Erwin asked.

He hadn’t directed the question to either of them, and it hung in the air. Getting heavier, making both Levi and Mike shift their weight, forcing them to avoid Erwin’s gaze and each other’s, they grew more uncomfortable as the moments stretched.

Finally Levi had enough. “Fighting,” he muttered.

“Yes,” Erwin agreed. He paused, letting the blunt answer sink in before continuing. “But not just fighting- the Scouts fight all the time. But we fight Titans. Not each other. And you both know that. You need to fight _together._ And for that you can’t be trying to kill each other.” He looked slowly between both men. His face open, his expression steady but not angry, Levi was surprised at how earnest his blue eyes looked. “We’re all on the same side.” Erwin’s voice was quiet, intimate, almost like he was entrusting them with a valuable secret as he met their eyes. “We need only fight for humanity.”

Levi’s shame burnt the back of his neck, but he didn’t dare look away. He had never run from anything in his life, and he wasn’t about to start now.

“So, I trust that you’ll have this office spic and span by lunchtime,” Erwin finished, giving a small cough as his face once again took on its normally-stoic expression. With that he stood from behind the desk and strode between the two men, closing the door behind him without another word.

“Shit,” Levi breathed. He looked around the office, collecting himself, only then realizing what he’d really gotten into.

The place was _chaos_.

Books, stacked in piles, tall enough that they leaned on each other and the bookcases behind for support. Papers, haphazard sheaves of parchment occupied every available horizontal surface. Ink pots, wax for seals, quills, and all manner of discarded notes littered the desk, forming a second layer over the forms and reports. Squirreled into every nook and cranny were books, letters, instruments for measuring or writing even more. And on top of at least half of it a generous layer of dust had collected.

“Shit!” Levi swore, this time with passion.

“I know, where do we even start?” Mike intoned, the despair already obvious in the flatness of his admission.

“I don’t know…” Levi murmured, turning in a slow circle as he took in the mess. “Let’s start by making a pile of shit we can throw away.”

“Why not start with the books or-”

“No,” Levi cut Mike off, “first we throw away any obvious trash. Next we clean the bookshelves. We put all these books away, then start on the papers. We need to go in order, top to bottom, and the floor will be last,” Levi ticked them off on his fingers. “We’ll need a duster, water, vinegar, soap, rags, and a mop.” He looked at Mike.

“O- okay?” Mike stammered. Levi’s eyes narrowed and Mike recovered quickly. “Right. You get the supplies. I’ll start with the trash.”

An uneasy truce had commenced.

Levi hadn’t thought it would be easy, but it was even harder to get started than he’d thought. Deciding what was needed and what wasn’t was difficult, and Mike kept turning around from wherever he stood, offering up a half-full ink pot, a crumpled letter, even a battered map for Levi’s approval. “I don’t know- just- just- put it to the side,” Levi found himself snapping. “We’ll figure it out later,” he relented a second later, knowing Mike wasn’t doing it to make him angry. They needed to work together and Levi could use all the help he could get.

After a half hour of throwing things out, Levi pronounced them ready to move on to the next step. It was obvious who would be dusting the bookshelves- the highest shelf was well above Levi’s reach. He handed over the duster with a grim look, and set to the task of wiping dust off the covers of books. They worked silently for a while, this task more clear-cut. Mike dusted, and though it wasn’t as thorough of a clean as Levi wished (he itched to scrub the shelves down with vinegar and water)- but with their limited time it was more than good enough. Levi cleaned books, placing them into different stacks as he did so, trying to give some sense to their eventual order. When Mike was through dusting he began to shelve the books Levi had set aside without prompting, allowing space on the shelves to accommodate the arrangement as Levi went.

The books disappeared from the floor, then the desk, and finally the few hiding under papers or knocked behind furniture were located and put in their rightful places. When Levi paused, inspecting their work for a moment, he had to admit that they’d done an okay job. _So far,_ Levi reminded himself. “Papers next,” he commented, and Mike grunted in agreement.

The papers were harder to get a hold on, and between Mike and Levi they finally settled on a system of ‘ _toss’,_ ‘ _file’,_ and ‘ _unfinished’._ It was minimal, but staring at letters, forms, reports, and receipts in a few dozen variations of nearly unreadable cursive or urgent print was already giving Levi a headache.

That was probably why when Mike started talking he didn’t even bother telling him to shut up.

“You’re not bad at this,” Mike commented, and Levi wasn’t surprised to have his own words thrown back at him. Mike was big and mostly blond, but he wasn’t actually that dumb.

“What of it?”

“Nothing. Just surprised.”

“That I can clean?”

“Yeah,” Mike shrugged, flipping through a stack of papers and sorting them into the piles they’d designated. He stared at a letter, bringing it closer to his nose as he squinted at the signature. “Well, that you’re so good at it, too. I didn’t know where to start. You did.”

“Well, cleanliness is important,” Levi said.

“Huh?” Mike’s grunted question made Levi’s brows pull together. He shouldn’t have to explain this.

“The Underground is dirty. It’s filthy. It’s full of disease, and waste, and death. You can’t fight your way out of that. You need to stay clean. You need to stay fed,” he pointed out.

For a while the sound of papers shuffling was all that filled the room.

Mike broke the silence cautiously. “So that’s why you were upset. About dinner. I didn’t realize. Food… must have been scarce in the Underground.”

Levi didn’t look at Mike when he responded. “Yes.”

The rest of the job went more quickly. They had figured out how to move around one another, how to divide the work most effectively, and use each other’s strengths. Levi was obsessive when it came to details. Mike was more general, his energy level high but his attention span short. They found it worked best when Mike tackled the bigger areas for a good once-over and left the finishing touches to Levi.

They didn’t talk much as they went. The silence was no longer uncomfortable. A few times, though, Levi thought he heard something. A low tone, off and on, rising and dipping just over and under the edge of a volume he could make out. Finally, Levi realized it was coming from Mike’s direction. As he reached up high, wiping a soapy rag over the top panes of the window behind Erwin’s desk, a clear high note gave him away- Mike was humming. Pausing for a moment, Levi listened. The notes were familiar but it wasn’t any melody he knew. He puzzled over it for a minute, before realizing he was staring. Levi turned away, not wanting to be caught. The tone was a little nasal, but it wasn’t annoying. There was no reason to bring it up, to make it uncomfortable for either of them. Mike could carry a tune well enough, and it lightened the mood.

As the lunchtime hour neared Levi began to think they might actually meet their deadline - the books were taken care of, the papers had been organized, the surface of the desk was visible and clean, and he was about ready to start mopping the floor when Mike walked over to the desk.

“We already did the papers and the desk,” Levi commented.

“I know. But something’s weird…” Mike muttered, taking a deep breath in through his nose. He sniffed once, then again, head turning as he took a few steps toward Erwin’s chair. “Something smells…” he trailed off, bending down and taking a few quick sniffs close to the drawers. “No…” He moved down to the next. “No…-” then “-yes.” Mike opened the drawer and peered inside. Pulling out a tin and straightening up, he fixed the metal box with a wary glance. With a _thud_ he threw it onto the desktop. “Let’s throw this out.”

“What is it?” Levi asked.

“Don’t know. Smells bad.”

“Like...? Never mind,” Levi stopped himself, swiping the tin off the desk and prying it open. When the lid popped off, Levi wished it hadn’t. Grimacing in disgust, he stared at the moldy blue-green contents, immediately dropping it back into the wood. “Oi, what is-”

“Cookies,” Mike supplied after sampling the air with another deep sniff. “Those were probably cookies. Sugar and butter, anyway.”

“Ugh. Gross.” Suppressing a shiver of disgust, Levi frowned at the putrid tin. “Why would Erwin…”

“Erwin’s always had a sweet tooth,” Mike shrugged, unfazed by the spoiled treats.

“Still, that’s disgusting. And a waste.”

“Can’t say I disagree,” Mike admitted, “but, well- food may not be too scarce, but there’s something else Erwin lacks that makes him like this.”

“What’s that?” Levi asked, his attention turning from the garbage to Mike’s words.

“Time.”

Considering the simple response, Levi slowly nodded. He hadn’t thought about it much before, but he realized now that he seldom saw Erwin on the training fields. Sometimes he’d lead his squad in drills, but more often he was holed up here in his office. Planning formations, strategizing for expeditions, organizing supplies and filing reports- Erwin was probably doing more than his fair share as a Squad Leader. The way he’d spoken with them, so honest, about fighting _together,_ bubbled up to the front of Levi’s mind. Erwin had meant it. Mike understood. But Levi had been too stubborn to see it. 

Levi opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Mike reached out with one big hand and flipped the lid of the tin closed. He picked the whole thing up in one hand and whisked it off the desk. “I got it,” he said. With that he walked across the room, and tossed the tin into the bin that had been collecting trash. “Anything else we need to toss?” he asked Levi. Recovering from the realization, Levi shook his head. Mike opened the door, hefting the bin off the floor. “Be back.”

In the time it took Mike to take the trash away and come back, Levi had gotten halfway through mopping the floor. When Mike entered the office he paused only for a moment. Without being asked he gently eased the bookshelves away from the wall, and as Levi mopped underneath and behind them for probably the first time in years, he shifted the desk as well. They switched places, Mike moving the furniture back as Levi finished off the rest of the floor.

When Levi dipped the mop back into the bucket for the final time, he heard Mike speak.

“You know, we never did get to find out who’s Humanity’s Strongest.”

“Huh,” Levi grunted.

“I’m up for a rematch if you want.”

A rematch. Levi paused, staring into the grayish water, only a few suds still clinging to the bucket’s edge.

Did he want that? Was he still angry at Mike?

“Nah. Doesn’t matter.” The answer might have surprised Levi only a few short hours ago, but even as he said it he knew it was true.


End file.
